The Better Half
by Sarra Alcatsol
Summary: Suffering the loss of a husband is hard enough, but with your job and a child to keep up, it becomes considerably harder. Only add to that men and you've got a plot full of pranks, tears, Quidditch, and candy.
1. Chapter One

**What Is A "WWW" Anyways?  
**  
_by Joella Martin  
  
When I first sat down to write this piece I was admittedly afriad of my subject. You see I had heard of this vadal's crimes for many years, and had even laughed at some of them. But, when the young man strode into the room, smiled, and offered me some free jokes from his shop, I couldn't find the fear anymore. Maybe it was his rogueish smile that suggested this man of two and twenty was much younger at heart, but it could have also been his shockingly red hair sticking in all directions over his head that made him seem laid back and friendly.  
  
Mr. Fred Weasley is the co-owner of a chain of joke shops, his partner in crime is his twin brother George. When I asked casually why his twin did not come as well, he shrugged and said something about how reporters intimidated him. I found this hard to believe, the proof of the matter relates otherwise. Both boys attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and from what I've heard (and witnessed) the duo reveled in the limelight.  
  
It's no joke to say that these boys are truly living their childhood dream. They currently run "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," (WWW) a household name for prankers and silly children alike. There are four locations and a mail-order catalogue. The locations include the usual places such as, Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, yet there is also a location in the wizarding community of Barcelona, Spain.  
  
**JM**: Why Barcelona Mr. Weasley?  
  
**FW**: Mr. Weasley is my father, please call me Fred.  
  
**JM**: Okay, Fred. Why Barcelona?  
  
**FW**: Well, aside from there being a fairly large wizarding school there, it's a good excuse for a vacation.  
  
**JM**: Vacation? How so?  
  
**FW**: (laughs) Well, you see I can say, "George, I'm going to check on the shop in Barcelona." Then, I go down to Barcelona, spend a day checking in, and spend the rest of the time thoroughly enjoying myself. In fact, I did that last month, and I took my wife with me. There are advantages to this sort of business.  
  
Mr. Weasley has been married two years to Margo Cook, now Weasley, and their expecting their first child at the start of next year.  
  
**JM**: Your wife? If it's not too personal, how did you meet her?  
  
**FW**: (laughs) Too personal? No, I wouldn't think so. When I joined the International League of Spectacle Quiddtich (ILSQ) we were beaters for the same team, the Camden Cuffers.  
  
The ILSQ is a Quidditch league that has turned the high action game into a theatrical event. The teams concentrate mostly on showy moves and splendid team formations. It's been said that this league is taking all the good points of Quidditch and combining it with just plain silliness.  
  
**JM**: Do you remember any... (pauses in thought)... certain events with her in the games?  
  
**FW**: (laughs) If anything happened, it happened in practice. I would hit something wrong and she'd blow up. It was funny, her ears always went this funny pink color. She's a perfectionist, but that's one of her qualities. But aren't I taking time out of the shop to talk about it?  
  
**JM**: Yes, quite right. What sort of jokes to do you carry in your shop? They aren't. dare I classify them this way, dangerous?  
  
**FW**: (laughs) Dangerous? Depends. There are certain rules you shouldn't break when doing any prank, large or small, but for the most part the "jokes", as you call them, are harmless... though a mite bit scary at some moments.  
  
**JM:** Scary?  
  
**FW**: Yes, for instance the gum that if you swallow it you'll whistle whenever you try to talk. No one should really swallow gum in the first place, so at first it could unsettling that you're whistling instead of speaking correctly.  
  
**JM**: Oh my. (looks at her pile of free examples) Is there any of that in there?  
  
**FW**: (laughs) No, you've got to buy that personally.  
  
**JM**: I feel relieved. Anything big happening in WWW in the near future?  
  
**FW**: George and I have been scouting out new locations. There are a few places we'd like to place a WWW.  
  
**JM**: Anymore like Barcelona?  
  
**FW**: One, yes. The others are pure profit gain.  
  
**JM**: Thank you Mr. Weasley- I mean Fred for coming in.  
  
**FW**: Pleasure's all mine.  
_  
Margo blinked again as large tears fell from her eyes. She wiped her deep brown eyes and shook her long dark hair out of her face. She flipped over the interview and placed spell-o-tape on each of the exposed foru corners. She delicately placed the clipping onto the wall, along side Quidditch posters and programs. Margo sat back down on the overstuffed couch and admired her handywork. Then, burst into tears. Her emotions were strung all over the place and she could barely make sense of what she should do next. She couldn't return to South Africa, any conection she had ever had had long since disclaimed her or died. The young woman of four and twenty pulled a cushion to her face and drowned out her loud racking sobs. If she kept on like this she would wake Andy, her bouncing two year old. He held no clue as to what had been happening the past few days. He merely basked in the attention of the family and friends and clung to his mother. Margo soon stopped crying, her tears had long been spent and she was only heaving dry sobs.  
  
There was a scratching at her window, she looked up to see an owl. Quickly Margo glided to the window and slid the ratty letter from it's leg. Margo ripped it open and read,  
  
"_Dear Daughter,  
  
It would make me feel so much better if you would come stay with me for a few weeks.  
  
-Molly_"  
  
Margo sniffled and ran a hand through her wild hair. She crumpled up the letter in her fist and set about to packing. 


	2. Chapter Two

Rain smacked against the windows, barring any exit of the house. Margo ran a finger around her chipped china cup full of steaming tea. She watched the trails of steam threaten to envelope her face, but never accomplish anything because of the cross breeze flowing though the house.  
  
"I really would push the point Margo," Molly Weasley stood over her oven, cooking up a small dinner for four people. Margo cleared her throat and lifted the tea to her mouth. She set it back down without taking any in.  
  
"Mum," Margo put a hand over her face. "You're busy enough, I don't want to press in on your time."  
  
Molly spun around from her cooking, "Nonsense! _Press_ in on my time? How could you and Andy ever do that?"  
  
"You might get tired of us, is all." Margo sighed.  
  
"Tired? Never! Oh I hope the day ever comes when I, Molly Weasley, get tired of my family!"  
  
"But, I've not really-"  
  
"_Hush_. I won't hear you say that ever again. What is your last name?" Molly's eyes flashed defiantly.  
  
Margo removed the hand from her face and looked sadly at Molly, "Weasley."  
  
"Yes!" Molly cmae over and put a comforting arm around Margo's shoulders. "Yes, Weasley. And don't you forget it. Because I won't. Which is why I want you to move in here!"  
  
"Oh, Molly..."  
  
"Don't _'Oh Molly'_ me with your big, sad, brown eyes! You know it would make me feel better. And, " Molly looked up at the rafers of her mis-matched house. "I think the Old Burrow is pining for the sound of little feet again."  
  
Margo closed her eyes for a moment, and then stared at the wood grain of the table.  
  
_"I mean just look at it! If you weren't a member of this family you'd call this table shabby! Shabby? May it never be dubbed so!" Fred slammed down his goblet on the never to be called shabby table.  
  
"Exaclty!" chimed in hs twin George. "Look there! See that particular blueish looking stain?" He lowered his voice and crouched down, "Would you ever call this table shabby? That stain came from a certain two people not watching what they were doing and knocking over Ginny's ink!"  
  
"NOW GEORGE." Fred said, standing to his feet.  
  
"NOW FRED." George said, leaping to his feet as well.  
  
"You weren't supposed to say anything."  
  
"My apologies, but it was too good to keep in."  
  
"But George, now look, you've gone and made me Misses blush!"  
_  
Margo reached out her hand and let one fingernail trace the pattern. Then she stopped, "All right Molly, but I'll keep the apartment in Diagon Alley, just in case you get tired of Andy and I."  
  
Molly squeezed Margo's shoulders, "Oh thank you daughter. I was afraid I'd been in this big creaky place alone most of the time!"  
  
"I am expecting to take up some responsibilities."  
  
"Of course, of course," Molly said, brushing Margo's demand off lightly. "Now, go wake up my grandson, we'll have dinner the moment Arthur walks in that door."  
  
Marog pushed her self up slowly from the table, abadoning her tea for more important things. 


End file.
